


Fan The Flames

by marchingjaybird



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angela's Witch Costume, F/F, Face-Sitting, Fareeha Is A Big Dork, First Time, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 02:39:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8310676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchingjaybird/pseuds/marchingjaybird
Summary: Fareeha is a big gay dork with a crush and Mercy has this silly witch costume from a few Halloweens ago, so clearly nothing is going to happen, right?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a drabble meme on Tumblr except I suck at drabbles so it came out WAY longer than anticipated. This one is for my lovely wife [flatbear](http://flatbear.tumblr.com/) and our lovely other wife [meledea](http://meledea.tumblr.com/).
> 
> A thousand thanks to [lamentforboromir](http://lamentforboromir.tumblr.com/) for the beta! You're the best internet daughter in the world!

Fareeha found the witch costume by accident.

“Dig around in the closet there,” Angela had told her, gesturing to the corner of the room. Privately, Fareeha thought it was better described as a locker, but if Angela wanted to be optimistic, who was she to get in the way? “I think I have an extra jacket. It was big on me, so it might work for you.”

Again, Fareeha thought she was being optimistic. Not only was Angela a good five to six inches shorter than she was, Fareeha was all broad shoulders and muscular arms, neither of which was likely to fit into a woman’s jacket. But Angela was trying to be nice, and Fareeha wasn’t about to lose an opportunity to linger in her presence. She’d harbored a moderate crush on the other woman since they’d been introduced. There was just something soothing about her competence.

(Less soothing was the swell of her hips, the slim curve of her waist, those perfect breasts that looked like they would fit neatly in Fareeha’s hands. The way she chewed her full lower lip, the spill of pale hair into her equally pale eyes, her long slender fingers, her precise accent. The list went on and on and _on_...)

Fareeha tried not to dwell on how pretty Angela was, mainly because they were colleagues and it wasn’t appropriate, but also because she tended to blush when her mind wandered and she didn’t think she could take it if Angela noticed. Being under fire in hostile territory after getting separated from her squad? No problem. Having the pretty doctor even _suspect_ that she was interested? Not even for a second.

She dug in the closet (locker), wondering how Angela fit so much in it. It must have been some woman trick Fareeha had never learned. She’d never been much interested in traditional feminine things - thank her mother for that - and she suspected she’d missed out on a lot of valuable information, like fitting clothes into a closet, or washing them in a way that didn’t make her pants shrink up so that her ankles showed.

The tips of her fingers brushed something soft and silky, and before she could process that it wasn’t a great idea to just whip clothes out of someone else’s closet, she’d withdrawn what appeared to be a scandalously cut dress. Baffled and more than a little intrigued, she turned to face Angela, holding the garment up in a way that clearly questioned its purpose.

Angela, who had been busy doing actual productive work by sorting clothes into piles to give away, took a moment to turn around, but when she did she burst out laughing. Fareeha felt like an idiot, the biggest idiot in the world, but Angela walked over, arms out, and took the dress from her, and Fareeha realized she’d been laughing at _it_ and not _her_ and felt marginally better.

“I can’t believe it!” Angela exclaimed, holding the dress at arm’s length. “I thought this thing was gone!” She sounded delighted to see it, so Fareeha felt comfortable asking.

“What… is it?”

“A costume,” Angela said, fixing her bright blue eyes on Fareeha’s face. Fareeha could feel the blood creeping up her neck and wished that Angela would take a few steps back. Her skin was dark enough that it hid most of her blushing, but right up close it was painfully obvious. She might as well just hold a sign that said _HELLO DOCTOR ZIEGLER, YOU SMELL VERY NICE AND I WOULD LIKE TO KISS YOU_.

“I wore it for Halloween, oh, ages ago,” Angela continued, pressing the dress up against her body. It was slit all the way to the hip. “I was a witch!” She laughed, handing the dress back to Fareeha, who was trying very hard not to picture Angela as a witch. “Can you imagine?”

“Yes,” Fareeha answered, and then in the face of Angela’s surprise, “I think it would suit you. You should wear it again some Halloween.”

Angela studied her face for a moment, a tiny smile twitching her mouth. “Perhaps I will,” she said, turning away. A moment later, she gave a triumphant cry and whirled back, brandishing a jacket that Fareeha could tell at a glance would not fit. “I told you I had it!”

***

It was late and Fareeha had just resigned herself to going to bed when her cell buzzed.

Surprised, she picked it up and glanced at it. She had no idea who would be trying to get a hold of her at this hour - surely it wasn’t an emergency. No one had _ever_ texted her to tell her she was needed in any official - or unofficial lately, as Overwatch wasn’t exactly sanctioned by any government - capacity. So it had to be personal, and she certainly didn’t know anyone that just wanted to chat so late at night. Unless it was Jesse, wanting to go get a drink.

She squinted at the message, then read it again, eyes growing so wide she thought they would pop out of her head.

_Are you still awake? There’s something I’d like to show you, if you don’t mind me coming by your room._

And across the top of the screen, the contact name: Angela Ziegler.

For a second, Fareeha was sure it was bad news. Someone had died, or fallen horribly ill, or been hideously injured. Or _she_ was ill and Angela wanted to come up to her room and tell her right away. But she felt fine, so perhaps Angela was ill and needed someone to talk to? Fareeha glanced around the room. It was messy but small. She could tidy up… 

_Sure_ , she texted back, heat rising in her cheeks. _Sorry, tho, I’m in my pajamas_.

She didn’t wait for a reply before leaping off the bed and hurrying to straighten the room. Dirty clothes went into a hamper, clean clothes she stuffed into her locker/closet. Everything that had congregated on the counter by the sink she swept into a travel bag so it at least looked tidy. The teetering pillars of books that she’d accumulated were fine for now, though she made a mental note to get some bookshelves finally so she at least knew what she had. Everything else, all the odds and ends that had accumulated, she kicked unceremoniously under the bed.

And that was probably as good as it would get. Fareeha blew hair out of her face and shrugged, shuffling back over to the bed and flopping down. She didn’t know why she was so determined to make a good impression, except that she respected Angela and wanted the same respect in return. There was certainly no expectation that she would be able to woo Angela. At best, Fareeha had always been awkward with women she found attractive, and she found Angela very, very attractive.

There was a knock at the door, and muffled laughter. “Hurry!” Angela said. Fareeha could barely hear her through the heavy door. “I don’t want anyone else to see me!”

Bemused, Fareeha opened the door and Angela squeezed past her, hand against her mouth to smother her laughter. Slowly, Fareeha closed the door and leaned against it. She could feel the pulse pounding in her temples and her palms were suddenly clammy. “Angela…” 

“Do you like it?” Angela posed, one hand on her hip. “I found everything that went with it, so I thought I would surprise you.”

The witch costume clung exactly as Fareeha had imagined it might, outlining the swell of Angela’s breasts and the graceful sweep of her waist. Her hip was almost entirely exposed, a flash of smooth, pale skin glowing against the stark black of the dress. She’d found a pair of stockings that stopped at mid-thigh; they were decorated down the side with little metal buttons that Fareeha wanted badly to unfasten. Her boots were silly, curly things with big silver buckles and, for a finishing touch, she had perched a witch’s hat on top of her golden hair.

“It’s a bit early for Halloween,” Fareeha murmured, slipping cautiously past Angela to sit on the bed. She was suddenly extremely aware that she was only wearing a pair of sweatpants and an old baggy shirt. 

“It’s never too early to play dress up,” Angela answered. She reached down to tug at the bodice. Her breasts bounced invitingly and Fareeha swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “It doesn’t fit quite like it used to. I guess I’ve gotten a bit bigger…”

“It looks nice,” Fareeha croaked. Angela looked up at her, an expression of sly satisfaction crossing her pretty face.

“I’m glad you like it,” she purred, stepping a little closer. Fareeha stared. After a moment of this standoff, Angela raised an eyebrow. “Am I not being obvious enough?” 

“Um.” This was the dangerous part, the part that informed all of the nervousness leading up to it. Fareeha had always loved women; ever since she could remember the sensation of attraction, it had always been directed at other women. It had frightened her, naturally. She’d never been told that it was wrong, necessarily, but she’d never been told it was right either, and so she had pushed it down and wrapped it in stoicism. Her mother had died - or so she’d thought, but that was a different can of worms - and she’d had no one to talk to about it, no one to hold her hand and tell her that sometimes women loved other women. And once she had embraced it, there had been as many cold silences and awkward rejections as there had been acceptance and reciprocation, and by this point in her life her sexuality was a Gordian knot of fear and guilt and she preferred to simply not address it. 

Every once in a while a woman like Angela would come along, exactly Fareeha’s type with her wide hips and her gentle competence, and Fareeha would devolve into a confused teenager with a crush, but she had grown accustomed to persevering through the worst of the awkwardness and forging a kind of acceptance that her relationships with women would never be what she wanted them to be.

And yet here stood Angela, provocatively dressed in an outfit that Fareeha had shown obvious interest in, a slow look of horror beginning to creep into her pale eyes. Fareeha recognized that sickening realization, that signs and tones of voice and body language had been misread, that the offer of companionship, of love, even just of sex had not been expected or even welcome. God, she knew that feeling, and before it could fully overtake Angela, Fareeha surged off of the bed and wrapped her arms around the other woman.

Angela was warm against her, soft curves that melted against her body as her arms circled that narrow waist. She weighed next to nothing and gasped in appreciation as Fareeha lifted her feet off the floor. Their lips met, parted. The inside of Angela’s mouth was cool and sweet, and her slim hands framed Fareeha’s face before slipping up into her hair and pulling her even closer.

When they finally broke apart, Fareeha couldn’t stop grinning and Angela, laughing, began to kiss her all along her jawline, nipping with her teeth in between. Fareeha shifted her arms, one around Angela’s waist, one slipping down to cradle her ass and stabilize her a little; Angela wrapped both legs around Fareeha’s waist and digging her nails in.

This was getting intense a lot faster than Fareeha had expected, and part of her thought she should put Angela down, perhaps ask her to go to dinner sometime. But there was an ache building between her legs, and she wanted desperately to feel Angela’s skin under her hands, to taste her, to make her come over and over.

Angela squirmed, breaking the kiss and laughing. She was flushed, her hair in a lovely disarray, and she slapped Fareeha lightly on the shoulder. “Put me down,” she demanded and Fareeha complied immediately. Angela had clearly had the same thought as she had; they needed to slow down, take a breath… 

The only reason she fell back onto the bed when Angela pushed her was because she wasn’t expecting it. She was twice Angela’s size and did not push easily, but down she went, her back thumping against the bed, the air leaving her lungs in a surprised _whoosh_. “Angela?” she laughed. There was a dip in the mattress and then Angela was straddling her hips, staring down at her with a wicked little smile.

“Am I being too forward?” Angela asked, even as her hands ran up Fareeha’s ribs to cup her breasts. Slim fingers teased her nipples, nails scratching through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. Fareeha gasped and arched her back, twisting toward the tauntingly light stimulation. Little sparks of pleasure ricocheted through her body and she ground her thighs together for a little relief.

“Maybe a little,” she gasped, resting her broad hands on Angela’s hips. “But I like it.”

“Good.” Angela’s hands slipped down again, sneaking under the hem of Fareeha’s shirt. Fingertips dragged so slowly across her nipples, the touch barely there, but it felt better than heavier stimulation ever had and she cried out. Whatever was happening, Angela was in charge and Fareeha was happy to lay back and let her direct. She’d had her share of sexual encounters but she had never in her life been so wet.

Angela pushed her shirt up, ducking her head. Blonde hair tickled Fareeha’s skin and then Angela’s lips were on her breast, the very tip of her tongue flicking agonizingly slow along the tip of Fareeha’s already tortured nipple. Fareeha moaned, thrusting her hips up and Angela responded with a moan of her own, her hips pushing up and back. Fareeha’s hands slid along the curve of her ass, slipped under the skimpy costume.

Angela’s ass was bare; Fareeha’s hands rested on smooth, cool skin, and she left them there for a moment. All of her former uncertainty had evaporated, driven away by that slowly stroking tongue. Angela wanted her, and she wanted Angela, so why dwell on the ramifications when instead she could have a beautiful woman in her lap? Slowly, her fingers flexed, hands sliding in and together until the tips of her middle fingers met at the apex of Angela’s thighs.

She was wearing a pair of underwear that was barely there at all, one of those ludicrous thongs that Fareeha had never seen the point of until now. Fareeha could feel the heat of her through the fabric, and when her fingers stretched, stroking along the thin fabric shell, it was soaked with Angela’s own arousal. Fareeha shuddered, pushing the thong aside to run her fingertips along Angela’s slick lips.

It earned her a soft moan from Angela and, encouraged, Fareeha pressed the pad of her index finger against Angela’s clit and began to rub gently. Teeth captured her nipple in a firm hold, sending a sharp stab of pleasure/pain blossoming through her body. Angela’s tongue followed soon after, flicking across the imprisoned flesh. It was such a delicious sensation that Fareeha let out a little scream and twisted against the mattress, pushing her breast eagerly against Angela’s mouth.

Laughing, Angela twisted away from Fareeha’s teasing fingers and sat back. Her cheeks were bright pink, her eyes sparkling. She’d never looked so beautiful, and Fareeha watched in dazed pleasure as she stood and shimmied and tossed something over her shoulder. That it was her thong did not connect in Fareeha’s mind until Angela had crawled up her body, hooking long legs over Fareeha’s shoulders and setting against her mouth.

Fareeha’s arms rose automatically to grasp Angela’s hips as she opened her mouth, tongue dragging up the delicious heat pressed against her face. Angela was impossibly wet and the taste of her, sweet and tangy, filled Fareeha’s mouth. Her tongue found Angela’s clit, flicked once, then again, then traced circles around it as Angela’s thighs tightened around her head.

Her entire world belonged to Angela now; all she could taste was Angela, all she could smell and feel and see and hear, all of it was delicious warmth and softness and the eager rolling of Angela’s hips as she ground down against Fareeha’s rapidly moving tongue. Fareeha would have been happy to stay like this forever, completely surrounded by Angela.

Fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer. She could hear Angela’s cries of pleasure growing ragged and eager, felt her thighs twitching and clenching. Fareeha dug her fingers into Angela’s hips, pressed up against her, and then Angela was coming against her mouth and for a long moment Fareeha couldn’t breathe, but then the pressure of Angela’s thighs let up and Angela was moving away from her mouth and she gasped.

Angela’s cheek pressed against hers, long fingers wiping at her mouth and chin as Angela laughed and kissed her all over, ending on her mouth. Fareeha wrapped her arms around Angela’s slim waist and held her close as Angela sucked at her lower lip, tasting herself on Fareeha’s mouth. They broke apart and Angela smiled at her, wicked and sharp, and then slithered down the bed. A throb of eager anticipation pulsed up from between Fareeha’s legs; she knew what was coming and it would be a lie to say she hadn’t thought of it when she touched herself at night.

Angela settled between her legs, pushing them up, and her long doctor’s fingers teased and stroked, circling her clit but never touching it. Fareeha pressed her head into the pillow, so overstimulated that she thought she might explode. “Please,” she sighed, reaching down to tangle her fingers in Angela’s thick hair. This won her a soft sound of approval, and then Angela was holding her open and her tongue was caressing Fareeha’s clit and everything else from then on was mindless pleasure.

The muscles in her stomach fluttered, tensing and releasing over and over as Angela teased her. Each stroke of her tongue was like a live wire sending electric pleasure coursing through Fareeha’s belly. It was almost too much, but in that delicious way that was like walking a tightrope; she could feel herself trembling on the edge of overstimulation with every tiny movement that Angela made.

Still, she twisted and gasped, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other in Angela’s hair, and pressed her hips up hard against Angela’s lovely mouth. And when Angela broke away for a moment to whisper, “Good girl,” against Fareeha’s thigh, Fareeha felt the unstoppable swell of pleasure that heralded an orgasm. She held her breath and froze, twitching slightly, as Angela’s tongue flicked once, twice, and then she was finished, pleasure crashing through her in a flood as she wrapped her legs around Angela’s head and held her in place.

Slowly, ecstasy retreated, and slowly, Fareeha relaxed back against the bed, breathing in long gulps of air and stretching her arms out in blissful satisfaction. Angela crawled up beside her, resting her head on Fareeha’s shoulder and kissing her cheek. Fareeha turned, capturing Angela’s chin and returning the kiss, her tongue flicking out to taste herself on Angela’s perfect lips.

“That was….” Fareeha closed her eyes and smiled, and Angela laughed. Her fingers stroked through Fareeha’s thick, shiny hair, combing out knots with gentle precision. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I know,” Angela answered. “I was afraid you would never make a move, so I decided to do it for you.”

Fareeha smiled wryly. “I was that obvious?”

“You were that obvious.” Angela kissed her behind the ear, nuzzled her neck. She seemed to be waiting for something; there was a tension in her body that had not been there before, and Fareeha struggled to figure out what was troubling her. They’d just had amazing sex, they were cuddled up in bed, what else was there?

“Ah…” Fareeha smiled a little, awkward, and wrapped her arm around Angela’s shoulders, pulling her closer. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Angela relaxed against her, smiling like a satisfied cat. “I would like that very much,” she said, kissing Fareeha’s shoulder. “I’m not nearly done with you.” Her hand rested lightly on Fareeha’s flat belly and a little thrill tingled up Fareeha’s spine.

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
